


Whole

by PaigeTurner



Series: Gestalt [3]
Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-26 19:42:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaigeTurner/pseuds/PaigeTurner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More aftermath of Gestalt. Directly follows Some of the Parts. Loki continues scheming for revenge. The team is reunited. Torture, mentions of non-con.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All Together

**Author's Note:**

> There is about a six week gap between the end of Some of the Parts and the beginning of Whole.

“Dr. Banner? Agent Romanov on your private line,” JARVIS intoned.

“Oh, thanks,” Bruce replied, picking up the phone. “Hello.”

“Hi, Bruce. I just wanted to let you know I should be back in a few days. I’m flying back to New York tomorrow, early flight. Dr. K has some testing and evals scheduled the next day and then, hopefully, I’ll be released.”

“That’s great,” Bruce said, sounding slightly surprised. “That’s soon. So…you’re doing well?”

“I’m done with all the surgeries,” Natasha answered. “I’m got a lot of physical therapy and psych appointments still ahead.”

“We’re friends, right?” Bruce asked, mentally kicking himself.

“Of course,” Natasha’s reply came after a brief but telling pause.

“I…I just want you know that I’m here for you. Whatever you need. I know you need time to heal mentally and emotionally as well as physically. I’m not trying to push any sort of expectations on you…” Bruce caught himself beginning to babble.

“Bruce, listen,” Natasha sighed softly. “I don’t want you waiting around for me. When I said we should see other people, I meant it. If our friendship is going to get in the way of you moving on…”

“It’s not,” Bruce assured her, a bit too quickly. “I’ve never been a ladies man. I’m moving on at my typical speed. I mean, how long was I alone before you and I started dating?”

“Too long,” Natasha replied. “Don’t do that to yourself again, especially not on my account.”

“I’m just not going to rush into anything. My feelings for you haven’t changed…”

“Give it time,” Natasha interrupted. “I’ve got an early day tomorrow, I should get going. I just…wanted to let you know I’ll see you soon.” ‘I’ve missed you,’ she didn’t say. 

“See you soon,” Bruce echoed sadly.

***

Iron Man, Captain America, Thor, the Hulk and occasionally Hawkeye had fought Hammer drones and Doom bots and some sort of palm-sized robots that went haywire and escaped from Dr. Richards’ lab and when Bruce was beginning to wonder if the local Radio Shack was having a clearance on evil robot parts, the city was laid siege to by a mutant with the ability to control marine life. The Hulk un-beached a pair of whales, while the others battled a Giant Squid that was wrapping its tentacles around the Statue of Liberty. 

The Hulk finished the battle by enjoying a swim and how Tony managed to keep a giant green skinny-dipper off the news was a mystery for the ages. The first thing Bruce was really aware of in his post-transformation daze was that he was wrapped in Thor’s cape. Steve and Clint were patiently guiding him back towards the tower. 

“Shower, eat, sleep,” Clint muttered. 

“Yes,” Steve replied. “In that order.” 

“Shower, debriefing, eat, sleep,” Agent Wallace intoned as he fell in step beside them. “We need to talk about your performance, Agent Barton.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Steve, Bruce, I’ll catch up.” He dropped behind. Steve obligingly sped up his stride, though not enough to get out of earshot before Agent Wallace started haranguing Clint about taking too long to line up his shots, or not playing to the team’s strength or whatever his currently complaint on the archer’s performance was.

“That guy’s a real hard-ass,” Steve remarked to Bruce.

“Wallace? Probably not the best fit for the Avengers, we don’t really play by any rules.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Steve laughed. They’d nearly caught up to Iron Man and Thor. 

“This shoulder piece is bent,” Tony complained. “Think you could help me out here, Arm and Hammer?” Thor grabbed the armor and pulled. “Ow! Gently! There’s a guy in this suit and, hey, that’s better. Thanks.” Thor handed him the damaged piece.

“Don’t mention it.”

“Even better,” Tony replied. He passed through the secured Avengers-only entrance. “Everybody think about food while you get cleaned up, we’ll meet in the common kitchen in like half an hour.” The billionaire, playboy genius philanthropist got into his elevator and hit the topmost button. He could hear the water running when he stepped out of the elevator. Tony was dimly aware of Pepper’s absence as he walked through the bedroom stripping. 

He flung open the door to the bathroom, steam billowing out, and as he realized where Pepper was, he grinned broadly. He closed the door quietly and latched it. He had all the high-tech security in the world at his fingertips, but he wouldn’t trade it for a simple door lock. 

“How long do we have?” Pepper called from the shower.

“An hour,” Tony replied. He pulled back the shower curtain and stepped in, his hands immediately seeking her wet skin. 

“JARVIS?” Pepper inquired.

“Twenty-five minutes, Miss Potts,” the familiar voice replied.

“Traitor,” Tony muttered. “Privacy, please.”

“Of course, sir,” JARVIS replied. 

Pepper reached under the spray of the shower to massage shampoo into Tony’s hair and he closed his eyes. He melted into her touch, rolling his head beneath her fingertips as she scrubbed, letting her nails lightly scratch his scalp. He luxuriated in the wet heat of the shower, content to let Pepper tend to him. He was more than content, delighted in fact, when he felt a sudsy washcloth begin to work over his shoulders, his chest and more. 

“You spoil me,” Tony exhaled, opening his eyes and looping his arms around her. He pulled her into his soapy chest.

“Rotten,” Pepper agreed, kissing him gently. She slithered out of his grasp and turned him towards the faucet to rinse off. Tony wasn’t thinking about dinner at all. He was, however, thinking about dessert. 

“You know,” he began his pitch. “We don’t have to go downstairs. The kids can fend for themselves; we could have something sent up if you’re hungry.”

Pepper turned off the water, reaching out of the shower for a towel. “You are incorrigible, Tony Stark.”

“You let me get away with it,” he taunted. She tossed the towel into his face and grabbed another for herself. “After dinner?”

“If you can keep yourself out of the lab,” Pepper replied. “Maybe.”

Tony sighed and dried off. He let the towel fall to the floor as he picked out clean clothes. Pepper was already half-dressed, combing out her wet hair. Tony ran his fingers through his own hair, shaking out the water and spiking it. It would fall flat once it dried, but he was sincerely hoping to be in bed by then. 

“I’m going to dry my hair, I’ll be down in a few minutes,” Pepper told him. 

“Come down with me, what’s the worst thing that happens? Everyone assumes we showered together?” Tony pleaded. 

“The worst thing, Tony, is that my hair ends up looking like a blind rat styled it,” Pepper retorted.

“And then we have to take another shower to get it sorted out.” Tony flashed her a megawatt grin. She shook her head and rolled her eyes and pulled on her shirt. They got in the elevator barefoot, Pepper’s hair made wet spots on the shoulders and back of her shirt and neither of them cared. 

“Okay,” Tony announced as the elevator doors opened. “What did everyone decide on for dinner?” 

“Calamari?” A voice replied from the kitchen.

“No-tasha!” Tony exclaimed. He scampered into the kitchen to see the red-haired assassin sitting at the table, flanked by Bruce and Steve, with Darcy next to Steve. 

“Fair Natasha!” Thor boomed. He raced in from the direction of the stairwell, Jane was at his heels. They both had wet hair. It’d been nearly a month since any of them had seen Natasha; she’d been transferred to a medical facility outside of Salt Lake City. 

“No hugs,” she said firmly, whipping up her hand to ward them off as they rushed her. “I saw most of it on the tower security feed from your helmet. I ordered pizzas.”

“When did you…” Steve started.

“How did you…” Tony spoke over him.

“Why didn’t you…” Thor interrupted.

Natasha laughed. “A couple hours ago, Happy picked me up, and I wanted it to be a surprise. Did I miss anything?” 

“I thought you wouldn’t be home until tomorrow,” Bruce reproached her gently.

“Time off for good behavior,” Natasha joked. “Dr. K had a cancellation, she bumped me up.”

“You look…better,” Tony said cautiously. She was still too pale and too thin but the bruises had faded to yellow green and she wasn’t covered in her own blood. It was all Tony could see in his mind when he thought of her. Blood on the floor and the walls and scrubbing it off his suit for days after he’d found her. 

“I’m not three-quarters dead; I don’t see how I could look much worse.” 

“It’s so good to have you home,” Pepper smiled kindly at her. 

“I’m not sure how much I’ll really be around,” Natasha replied. “I’ve got a million physical therapy sessions scheduled starting tomorrow morning.”

“That’s understandable,” Steve said. “You, well, you’ve been through a lot. Recovery will take time.”

Clint was standing in the doorway, staring. Natasha felt his gaze before anyone else had noticed him, she acknowledged him with a glance and a slow blink. 

“Dr. Televich says a minimum of eight weeks before I can resume normal activities, Dr. Khandalavala thinks I can get away with six, if I follow all instructions. Personally, I’m shooting for four.”

“Don’t push it,” Bruce said softly.

“I’ve gotta get back out there,” Natasha justified. JARVIS interrupted to let them know the pizzas had arrived and Clint volunteered to bring them up so quickly no one else had time to react at all. He dropped off the boxes, seven larges, and vanished, muttering excuses about not being hungry. 

There was relative silence while they ate. Thor put away an entire pizza, seemingly without stopping to breathe and Steve did nearly the same, folding the slices in half and eating them like a taco. 

“So,” Tony began. “You know that whole thing when you and I first met, the Rushman affair, you and Fury conspiring to save my life and all that?”

Natasha stared at him. She shook her head, rolling her eyes. “Are you still…”

“We’re totally even now. I don’t owe for that anymore.” Tony finished. Everyone was staring at him now. “We’re square.” 

“I hadn’t realized you considered yourself indebted,” Natasha said quietly. 

“It was only my life,” Tony shrugged. “In the completely literal I-was-dying sense.”

Natasha nodded slowly. “Square. I can live with that.”

“Great. New topic, Bruce, what was in that letter you got earlier?” He looked at his friend expectantly.

“That was private,” Bruce replied as though it were obvious.

“Yeah, but I saw the return address,” Tony said. “Betty’s your ex, right? What’d she want?”

“Tony,” Pepper hissed. “Are you trying to set a new record for awkward dinner conversation?”

It had worked though; the others were starting to look at Bruce with curiosity. Tony had managed to deflect attention from Natasha and Clint, no matter the cost. 

“Nothing, we’re, well, we’re still friends I guess. She just wanted to get together, now that I’m back in the states.” Bruce admitted. 

“Are you going to see her?” Darcy asked.

“I don’t know,” Bruce sighed. 

“There’s nothing strange or awkward about seeing an old friend,” Jane said helpfully.

“Except that she’s also an old girlfriend and she went out of her way to mention that she’s not seeing any one right now and I…don’t know.”

“Well,” Steve said helpfully. “What do you want?”

Bruce took a large bite of pizza and chewed slowly. “I think if things were going to work with me and Betty, we would’ve worked them out long ago.”

“So, tell her you just want to be friends, you do want to be friends, right?” Darcy contributed.

“Yeah.” Bruce was non-committal.

“You should tell her in person,” Natasha said in a neutral tone.

"You might actually owe her that," Tony said with a shrug. 

"Still a spark there for your old flame?" Steve asked sympathetically.

"No," Bruce answered a bit too quickly.

"Then there's no harm in seeing her," Darcy reasoned. "Right?"

"I'll think about it," Bruce said. "I just don't want to go re-treading old ground. Things have changed a lot since the last time I saw her." He stood up and took his plate to the sink. Natasha waited while the kitchen cleared out. Bruce glanced over at her. "You know, my feelings for you don't have any bearing on my feelings for Betty. Things have been over between us for a long time. And you aren't, weren't, a rebound from that relationship."

"It's a pride thing, actually," Natasha said. She reached beneath the table and came up with a pair of crutches. "I didn't want everyone to see me using these. I wasn't going to say anything else about her."

"Oh."

"But you still love her." Natasha gave him a moment to deny it. "I just want you to be happy."

Bruce sighed defeatedly as Natasha made her way out of the kitchen.


	2. Disassembled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Torture and nightmares and Tony being Tony.

_Seven Months Ago_

The drizzle had begun to freeze in the air and by the time Natasha and Bruce reached the tower they were both shivering and soaked. Natasha was tugging off his clothes as soon as his door shut behind them, her fingers cold and her lips warm. There were tiny crystals of ice clinging to the strands of her hair and the fibers of her dress and she glittered ethereally. Bruce led them deeper into the apartment, stopping to fumble in the linen closet. He pulled out a couple of towels without breaking their kiss. 

Natasha had successfully stripped Bruce of his shirt and they’d both kicked off their shoes at the door, so as not to track mud and water across his floors. She shimmied out of her dress with his help, letting him wrap the towel around her. Her bra hit the floor between her feet and she guided Bruce’s hand into the towel. “Now to get warmed up,” she murmured.

“We should take it slow,” Bruce objected, even as he let her back him towards the bedroom. 

“Worried about the other guy?” Natasha asked, pulling back just a hair.

“Yeah. I haven’t exactly been celibate since my accident, but I have a very small sample pool…”

“Sample pool’s the only thing that’s small,” Natasha purred, stroking the front of his pants.

“That’s…What I mean is there aren't enough data points to draw a valid conclusion about the safety…” Bruce stammered a little.

“This is a scientific way of saying you’re inexperienced?” Natasha concluded. “At least, when it comes to triggering or not triggering the other guy at an inopportune moment?”

“And also in general,” Bruce said. “If I’m being completely honest that is the other thing making me a little anxious.”

Natasha smiled at him. “Experience is overrated.”

Bruce shook his head. Natasha touched his cheek gently, drawing his eyes back to her face.

“Trust me,” she said solemnly. “I’ve got loads of experience, including plenty of experiences I’d rather never have had. It’s overrated.”

Bruce frowned, his expression growing concerned. “What does that mean? Experiences you’d rather not…”

Natasha looked away. It was too much, too honest, too raw. And now it was too late to take it back. “ SHIELD does not require their agents to perform sexual acts under any circumstances,” she answered. “But I haven’t always worked for SHIELD.”

“Oh.” Bruce’s hand slipped away from her skin. His physical withdrawal was only a matter of inches, but Natasha could feel him shrinking into the distance like a speck on the horizon. “So…slow works for you?” he offered. 

She finally looked at him. She studied his expression carefully. There was no judgment; he didn't seem disgusted by her admission. There was uncertainty, and a trace of pity that she wasn't at all fond of. She nodded. “Slow works for me.” 

His kiss was tender but there was heat in it. Her towel fell away as he pulled her into an embrace. She broke the kiss slowly. “I want you to know that I’m here because I chose to be,” she told him firmly.

“I want to know if that ever changes,” he replied. She nodded her agreement and sealed it with another kiss.

***

_Present Day_

Clint’s memories of Colombia felt like they belonged to someone else. He was watching himself through tinted glass thick enough to distort everything. It was only in his nightmares that everything became clear, became real. When he slept, he could see clearly. He saw blood and tears and sweat trickling down her skin. He could hear every scream, every whimper, and every rasping breath. He could feel soft flesh yielding to his fists.

He felt the heat of the matches between his fingertips. He felt the pads of his thumbs sinking into her thighs as he pushed her legs apart. He woke up with a hard-on and spent forty minutes in an ice cold shower. The cold reminded him of Loki. It reminded him of the way Loki’s voice chilled the blood in his veins. He toweled off and dressed and walked down 864 steps to the range Tony had built in the first basement of the tower. He fired arrows until his arms ached and kept going until he felt numb all over. Clint walked up 864 steps to his floor of the tower and tried again to sleep.

“No.” Natasha’s quiet, firm voice barely registered. Loki overrode everything. He had to make Loki happy, had to make him proud. Loki wanted this. Clint knelt between Natasha’s naked thighs. He tried to make himself wake up. He was unfastening his pants. 

His phone rang and Clint’s eyes snapped open. He reached for it and his muscles screamed in protest. No matter how fast Clint ran, his memories were gaining on him. His nightmares had gotten worse nightly since Natasha had come home.

***

“Remote access limited. Remote access offline,” JARVIS proclaimed. “Iron Man suit offline, cause unknown. Initiating reboot.” 

Steve’s head shot up. “What does that mean?”

“Reboot failed. Unable to establish contact. Forwarding last known co-ordinates to Avengers.”

Steve’s phone vibrated. He looked down. “Latveria, that seems bad.” The phone vibrated again and Steve answered. “Rogers, here.”

“I’m suiting up, meet you on the roof in five,” Clint answered. 

“I’ll be there,” Steve said. “Make sure Banner’s ready, I’ll check with Thor.”

Thor, Hawkeye and Captain America were on the roof of Avengers tower four and a half minutes later. “No luck reaching Banner,” Hawkeye said, shaking his head. “We’re going to have to do this without him.”

“We don’t have time to waste,” Captain America agreed. He strapped into a seat on the quinjet, Thor did the same. Hawkeye was piloting, he immediately began his pre-flight checks. “JARVIS? You on-board?”

“I am, Captain Rogers.”

Less than ten minutes after the initial loss of contact with Iron Man, the Avengers were en route to Latveria.

***

Tony felt like his skin was being pulled off. He felt like his bones were shattering. There was a blinding light shining into his eyes and the taste of brackish water in his mouth. Every nightmare started the same way. He’d never left Afghanistan. Yinsen was dead and he was still in captivity and Tony shook his head to rattle the nightmare loose. The taste of the water receded but he was still in chains. 

“Tony Stark.” It wasn’t Raza’s voice or Stane’s or Vanko’s. It was Loki. 

“Hey, I found you,” Tony replied. “Sort of.”

There were pieces of armor scattered around the room; Tony was down to his boxers. “Were you impressed with what I did to your friends?” Loki finally came into view, a long, thin-bladed knife in one hand. Tony swallowed his fear as thoughts of blood rose unbidden in his mind. 

The blade of the knife was searing cold, tracing faint lines into his flesh, the blood welling up after a few seconds delay. It was sharp enough he barely felt it, just a sting and the coldness. The knife went a little deeper and Tony twitched and inhaled sharply. The cuts stopped and Tony opened his eyes. Loki was directly in front of him, leaning in jarringly close, and he peered at the arc reactor curiously.

“See something you like?” Tony asked. Loki’s eyes flicked to his face. 

“This…device,” Loki said. “This little engine you’ve built. I think I’m going to cut it out.”

Tony tried to keep his expression neutral, he truly did. His eyes widened, his brows came together and the corners of his mouth turned down. 

Loki grinned. “Cut it out and fuck the hole,” he hissed. “They tell me revenge is a dish best served cold.” He pressed the tip of the knife in just above the arc reactor. The chill that permeated Tony was sudden and complete, like falling into a pool of ice water.

“You’re really sick,” Tony squeaked. He was shivering; he had goose bumps over every inch of his skin. “Like…the Japanese are going ‘that’s too perverted’ type sick.” The blade hit some part of the reactor and sent a jolt through him. The shock had also travelled up the knife and Loki pulled back, frowning and shaking his hand. Tony chuckled. “You’re gonna want to think twice about sticking your dick in there.”

Loki slapped him. It was something of a surprise to Tony. It was more of a surprise when the trickster yanked down his boxers. “You’d prefer it elsewhere?” Loki snarled. 

“No thank you,” Tony said quickly. “Maybe we can talk about this.” Loki circled around behind him. “Look, if this is about that erectile dysfunction joke I made at the tower, it was a joke! I really don’t want proof of your ability to perform.” 

When he felt the knife digging into his back, it was a relief. The blade was sharp and the pain was surprisingly neutral. There was a steady rhythm to the cuts, a pattern that Tony could feel. Shallow and deep, across and down. It was never quite steady enough for Tony to know what to expect. Loki seemed utterly absorbed in the act, humming to himself an unrecognizable tune that made Tony’s head throb. It didn't take Tony long to decide that two could play at that game. Clearing his throat, he began to sing.

“This is the song that never, ow, ends, yes it goes, ow, on and on my, ow, friends.”

Loki stopped cutting. He walked in front of Stark and placed the blade against the base of his throat. “It ends now.” 

Tony looked at him and swallowed hard. “Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was.”

Loki slammed the blade deep into Tony’s chest, along the left side of the arc reactor. 

“And they’ll continue,” Tony choked out tunelessly. The knife slipped downward. “Singing it forever.” It was getting harder to breath. The light in his chest flickered. 

“You dare taunt me?” Loki growled.

“Just. Because.” There was a distant explosion. The knife was directly below the reactor. Loki leaned his weight into his captive, pressing the knife in deeper. “This. Is. The.” Loki switched his grip on the knife and pulled steadily downward. The reactor bulged forward out of Tony’s chest and the light went out. He gasped, opening and closing his mouth soundlessly. There was another explosion, closer than the last and Loki rushed to a bank of monitors on the east wall. 

“The cavalry’s here,” Loki observed. “Not, I think, soon enough.” He glanced at Tony’s limp and bloodied form. He returned his attention to the monitors. He spotted his brother first, all flowing golden locks and streaming crimson cape as lightning flashed on the screen. There was the one they called Captain America, Loki saw the shield fly across the screen and followed its trajectory back. An arrow revealed Hawkeye’s presence. Loki reached out towards his archer with his mind. Nothing. No connection. He frowned. There was also no sign at all of the beast, the behemoth, the Hulk. A third explosion resonated, the walls trembled and the monitors went dark. 

“Well, that’s time to take my leave then,” Loki remarked. The Avengers were tearing through Doom’s defenses with impressive efficiency. He removed a hidden panel and slipped away. He calculated eight to ten minutes before the team reached the room he had just left, if they reached it at all. It would take longer still for them to find the passageway he was using. Loki had plenty of time to make his escape, but he wasted none of it.


	3. Fingerprints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of conversation, a little confrontation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Much. Talking. I rewrote this chapter about seventeen times, I hope it turned out okay.

The tower was unsettlingly quiet when Bruce returned from his date --it wasn’t a date, just dinner with an old friend-- with Betty. He let himself in and jumped a little, guiltily, when JARVIS spoke to him.

“Dr. Banner, we have been unable to reach you. The rest of the team is…on a mission.”

“Mission? What…what happened? I was only gone a few hours.”

“I lost contact with the Iron Man armor over Latveria, the others departed immediately to locate Mr. Stark.”

Bruce let out a shaky sigh. “Ok, do you have a way for me to get to Latveria?”

“I don’t think that will be necessary, the most recent update indicates that rescue is already underway. Unless they are unable to complete the task, they will be en route here before you could reach their location. I have also alerted SHEILD, they have dispatched a team to provide backup.”

Bruce nodded. “So…there’s really nothing for me to do now?” He hated the idea of sitting on the sidelines while his friends were in danger. Maybe Tony had been right about him all along. 

“It seems that Agent Romanov might need some company.” 

Bruce found Natasha on her floor of the tower, curled up on the couch in her lounge. There was a movie on the television, something black and white with Cary Grant that she didn’t seem to be watching. When she looked at him, he thought she had been crying.

“How’d things go with Betty?” she asked. Judging from her voice, she’d definitely been crying. 

“She was…less than pleased when I told her I wanted to be friends,” Bruce said tactfully. “And nothing more.”

“Why?”

“I guess she wanted more,” he shrugged.

“You don’t? You still love her,” Natasha pressed. 

“Love isn't enough,” Bruce answered wistfully. Natasha looked small, her legs tucked into her chest, her feet vanishing into the couch cushions. His gaze flickered to the crutches next to the couch. “I love you,” he said softly. “That’s not enough either.”

“Why isn't loving Betty enough? She wants you, maybe it’s enough for her, and maybe you don’t get to decide what enough is. What’s enough, Bruce?”

There was a little tremor in her voice, a little edge of anger. Bruce was good at recognizing anger.

“She doesn't make me feel the way I feel when I’m with you,” he said calmly, quietly. He sat at the farthest end of the couch. “That feeling is enough…for me.”

“What feeling is that?” Natasha asked cynically.

“I don’t know. It’s not anger, I know that.” He smiled a little at the corners of his lips. “Would it be totally bizarre to postulate that you make me feel safe?”

Natasha didn't answer but she did smile, even if it didn't touch her eyes.

“I feel safe. I feel in control. I think I trust you.” It was a bigger word than love. 

“Sometimes I wish I was someone else,” Natasha whispered in reply. Bruce moved a little closer. “Someone trustworthy.”

“I trust you,” he repeated, emphasizing it more this time.

“Someone good.”

“You are good, Natasha.” She didn’t seem to hear him.

“Someone like who you think I am.”

Bruce couldn’t come up with an answer to that. He crawled down the length of the couch and kissed her. He felt her stiffen and a tremor passed through her before she relaxed and kissed him back.

“I love you,” he whispered. Her fingers carded through his hair and she pulled him down for another kiss. “Just as you are.” 

***

The third explosion went off right behind Captain America, as one of Hawkeye’s arrows hit a booby-trapped Doom bot. It knocked him clean off his feet, his cowl colliding with the edge of his shield. Hawkeye grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet and quickly releasing him as he chased down Thor. The thunder god was clearing the corridor ahead with great sweeps of his hammer. 

Steve was on his feet and he stumbled after the others, but the cowl was cracked. There was blood pouring down behind it, blinding him. It was dripping off his nose and running into his mouth; he swiped his hand across his face and grabbed the edge of the cowl. He started to pull it up and away and suddenly swooned. He couldn't keep his feet. 

Thor went barreling down the hallway, slamming through locked doors like a battering ram, never slowing down. The room Tony was in was empty, except for Tony, and the entrance Thor burst through was behind the billionaire. Thor skidded to a stop, staring at the bloodied body hanging in front of him. 

There were runes dripping blood onto the stainless steel flooring. Thor wasted no time, shattering the chains with his bare hands, wrapping Tony’s limp frame in his cape. He stared at the ugly wound in Tony’s chest. SHEILD agents swarmed around him and Hawkeye was trying to get him to set Tony onto a stretcher.

“Where is Loki?”

“We haven’t’ found him yet,” Agent Morse replied. 

“He must be found,” Thor boomed, looking at them accusingly. “Now!” The agents scrambled, fanning out to search the facility.

***

“It used to be easy,” Natasha complained.

“It’ll get easier,” Bruce promised. “You’ve been through a lot. You’re lucky to be alive.”

“I’d like to vote on that.” Her tone was joking but bitter. “Ten years ago…I wouldn’t be sitting on a couch sniffling into my Ben and Jerry’s. All this would’ve rolled off like water on a duck.” She curled in on herself, retreating and Bruce backed down the couch a few inches. “It was simple. Sex was like a…a pair of pliers. Like a hammer or a scalpel. Just a tool. Every part of my body a weapon and it never mattered how it was used.”

“And now it matters.”

“It actually started,” Natasha smiled at the memory. “With Phil Coulson. He was the first to tell me that it should matter. He didn’t let…anyone take advantage, and I was pretty vulnerable when I first came in. And Clint, who never put a hand on me in anything but friendship.” She shook her head, her eyes were wet again. “And you.” She looked at Bruce accusingly. 

“You and your glacial pace. Everything’s changed. I don’t want anyone else touching me, I feel like I have fingerprints all over my skin. I feel…” Natasha paused, trying to name her thoughts. “I don’t know. I feel more used than I ever have and I’m afraid all the time, I don’t know who to trust and I don’t know if you still want me or, for God’s sake, why you would.”

“Because I love you,” Bruce answered, taking advantage of her pausing for breath to forge into the conversation. “I know there’s red in your ledger and fingerprints on your skin and I love you. Every part. You’re flawed.” He raised one finger to delay her response. “And you love me and my flaws. And the longer we’re together, the more I feel like the broken edges of our lives fit together like a puzzle. Here’s a fragment of you, here’s a fragment of me…”

She regarded him, sphinx-like and silent. He watched her eyes as she read every corner of him. She unzipped her sweatshirt and slipped it off without looking away from him. His gaze dropped to the deep, dimpled scar on her right forearm. Natasha pulled the hem of her t-shirt up, exposing the pale crescents and lines and dots, an encoded language of scars written across her flat belly. She tugged the shirt up and off, shaking her curls as it passed over her head. She slipped her left hand, now more dexterous than the right, behind her back and her bra sagged. She freed her arms and let the garment fall to the floor, her inscrutable expression never changing. 

Bruce was suddenly painfully aware of how close he was to her.

“Do you still want me?” Natasha’s voice was barely more than a whisper. Bruce answered with gentle fingertips, warm breath and warmer lips sweeping over her skin. 

“Always,” he exhaled the word into her ear, his breath sending a flush of heat through her. She leaned back, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her pants and the underwear beneath. She untangled her legs gracefully; her hips rose as she pulled her clothing down. There were scars like confetti in the cropped hair between her legs. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Bruce asked. Natasha was shifting beneath him, her fingers threaded through his hair. 

“Slow,” she answered. She guided his mouth down over her body with a gentle hand. 

***

_Morning_

Steve was sitting at the kitchen table with a bandage covering his forehead. Thor sat on his left, Clint on his right. Jane was next to Thor, with Darcy on her other side. There were four empty chairs; Natasha took the one next to Clint, propping her crutches on the opposite side. Bruce put a tea kettle on the stove and started another pot of coffee. 

“I guess it didn’t go well,” Bruce surmised. 

“We found Tony,” Steve answered.

“And he’s alive,” Thor added.

“Technically,” Clint said. “It’s…it’s bad.”

“Really bad,” Darcy said. “Loki damaged the arc reactor.”

“Doesn’t that…keep him alive?” Bruce said in alarm.

“At least he has a spare,” Steve replied. 

“Natasha,” Thor said softly. “Your doctor told us that Loki cut runes into your back. Could I see them?”

Natasha frowned at the sudden change in topic, but twisted in her chair and pulled up the bottom of her shirt, exposing her back. 

“It is as I feared. I did not think of it until I saw what he had done to Tony. This is magic. Part of a ritual, a summoning.”

“Summoning what?” Natasha stiffened and covered herself, but did not turn to face them yet. 

“I can’t tell,” Thor answered, shaking his head. “This is definitely the first part, and Tony bears the second.”

“How many parts are there?” Steve asked. 

“I don’t know,” Thor admitted. “If I had need of magic or need of knowledge of it, I always simply asked my brother.”

Thor, Jane, Darcy and Steve were talking about magic, Jane arguing that if magic and science were the same in Asgard, they had more than enough scientists to figure this out. Bruce felt for a moment that he was very much outside of it all. He could see Clint shutting down, his fists clenching and unclenching in his lap, his head bowed. Clint’s face worked through familiar expressions of self-loathing and self-blame. He couldn't see Natasha’s expression. She still had her back to the table but her head was turned towards Clint. Bruce could sense some sort of communication passing from her to the archer. He could almost see it, flowing out in her body language. He kept his hands moving, pouring the hot water over his tea ball, and checking the coffee maker. 

Agent Wallace stormed in and all conversation died. “I’ve reviewed what we managed to salvage of Dr. Doom’s security footage, Barton.” He glowered at Clint, who winced slightly, drawing himself smaller. “Do you know happened to our fine Captain?” he asked, gesturing to Steve.

Steve frowned. “There was an explosion that threw me off balance. I cracked my head on my own shield. He had nothing…”

“His explosion. I’ve warned you about those damned exploding arrows, fucking stupid gimmick. Gave the super soldier a concussion. What d’you think would’ve happened if Agent Morse had been standing in his place?”

Clint sighed and didn’t answer. It would’ve killed anyone but Cap. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Darcy interrupted. “Cut the guy some slack.”

“Slack?” Agent Wallace turned his glare on her. “Stark’s half dead because you people are too slow, too disorderly, too unmanageable; this is the second time that Barton’s gotten Captain Rogers hurt. And if you don’t point out to him when he fucks up, he’s just gonna keep right on doing it. Until someone else dies. I will not cut him any slack, Miss Lewis, because I am not here to coddle that rapist.”

The table fell silent. Natasha gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles turned white and her palms made a creaking sound against the wood.

“Clint is not a rapist,” she said firmly.

Agent Wallace gave her an appraising look and cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? Was all that consensual then?” He looked her up and down. “Might’ve guessed you’d like it rough.” 

Steve stood up quickly. “Okay, I think it’s time for you to go.” He grabbed the agent by the upper arm. “I’ll walk you out.”

“We’ll talk later, Barton,” Wallace sneered. He allowed himself to be led to the elevators. The doors closed behind them before anyone dared exhale. Clint was the first to speak.

“Natasha,” Clint began. “Do you really believe that?”

“Of course,” she replied though she looked a bit pale. 

Clint shook his head. “I don’t want you defending me.”

“Then start defending yourself,” Natasha snapped back. “You think this is easy for me?”

“I’m trying to tell you I…what I did is indefensible.”

“And yet here we are. Clint, it wasn't your fault. Loki…”

“And Agent Wallace is the only one interested in holding me responsible,” Clint interrupted.

“For things you aren't responsible for!” Natasha’s voice rose. 

“You don’t know that. You don’t know what I’m capable of. I feel like I don’t even know who I am anymore. I can’t stop thinking about it.” The words were spilling out faster than he could think about them. “Was there something else I could have done? Some way I could have stopped? Does it matter? Are you less hurt because I didn't want to hurt you? Is Abel Saunders less dead because I didn't mean to put an arrow through his skull? Is my guilt or innocence a great comfort to his widow, do you think?”

“It’s a comfort to me,” Natasha answered with tremor in her voice. “I couldn't sleep if I thought I was wrong about this. If I thought I’d been wrong about you all these years.”

“Maybe you are,” Clint responded. He stared at nothing on the floor. “I keep trying to forget what I need to remember. Did I make a choice? I keep asking myself if I enjoyed it.” A cold ball formed in the pit of his stomach but he pressed on. “I came. I must have enjoyed it. I keep remembering. I keep wondering what it would have been like to pull the trigger. I keep picturing you dead.”

Steve was standing in the doorway, gaping at Clint. Jane kept exchanging glances with Darcy and Thor, all of them stunned into silence. Bruce’s hands shook as he poured a cup of coffee. He set his tea at the empty seat at the table next to Natasha and handed her the coffee mug. He wanted her to look at him but she didn't.

“Picturing something and wanting it aren’t the same,” Natasha whispered hoarsely as she reached for the mug. 

Clint shook his head. There was a crash and a shout and the next thing he knew, Natasha was sprawled on the floor by his feet. Her crutches scattered off to the side. Bruce was on his feet, clutching his hand to his chest; his eyes were clenched shut, his face contorted. 

“Ah, shit,” Bruce gasped. “Bad instinct.”

“What just happened?” Jane blurted out.

“Dropped the coffee cup, tried to catch it,” Bruce said. He was slowly unfurling, looking at the mess. “Jane, you know your way around the lab best, there’s a contaminate clean up kit in the locker next to the eye-wash station. Looks like a first aid kit with a green cross on it.” He emphasized the word green. “Send it up with Thor; don’t come back up here until it’s clear. Everybody clear out.”

“Are you hurt?” Steve asked.

“Small cut, but the gamma radiation makes exposure to my blood very dangerous for all of you.”

“That’s a lot of blood,” Clint whispered. He wasn't looking at Bruce. He was looking at Natasha. A shard of the coffee mug jutted out of her right palm, in the flesh just below the thumb. 

“Natasha?” Bruce’s voice was small and horrified.

“I’m on Coumadin,” she whispered. 

Time seemed to speed up. Bruce went down the lab; Clint called for SHIELD to send a medical team; Natasha elevated her hand, putting pressure below the wound to avoid disturbing the piece of ceramic; Steve quarantined himself with Thor, Jane and Darcy in the living room. By the time the medics arrived -- in full haz-mat suits -- Bruce had already cleaned up most of the blood and coffee. They got the bleeding stopped, got Natasha’s hand stitched and bandaged, and Bruce was able to determine that there was no further risk of gamma poisoning. Everyone retreated to their floors of the tower, exhausted.


End file.
